--"Other cares engross me, and my tired soul with emulative haste, Looks to its God."
THE brother associated with James in business, in Baltimore, was sent for to confer with one who might never be able to see him there.
James began to speak of life as closing; of heaven, as of a place in immediate prospect; of aspirations, which waited for fruition in glory.
His brother, Lewis by name, was an especial fa-vorite of sister Mary; more like her, in disposi-tion and preferences than James or Jack.
He arrived as soon as possible after the re-quest, and saw with regret the sure indications of fatality in his sick brother, and listened to his admonitions--admonitions to a Christian life--with tears, and uttered some promises of atten-tion to the subject so dear to the heart of James.
How gladly he would have extended healing aid. But, alas! it was not in his power; so, after listening to his wishes and arrangements for his family and business, he decided to return home.
Anxious for company home, he persuaded his father and mother to permit Mary to attend him.
She was not at all needed in the sick room; she did not choose to be useful in the kitchen, and then she was fully determined to go.
So all the trunks were assembled and cram-med with the best selections from the wardrobe of herself and mother, where the last-mentioned articles could be appropriated.
"Nig was never so helpful before," Mary re-marked, and wondered what had induced such a change in place of former sullenness.
Nig was looking further than the present, and congratulating herself upon some days of peace, for Mary never lost opportunity of informing her mother of Nig's delinquencies, were she otherwise ignorant.
Was it strange if she were officious, with such relief in prospect?
The parting from the sick brother was tearful and sad. James prayed in their presence for their renewal in holiness; and urged their im-mediate attention to eternal realities, and gained a promise that Susan and Charlie should share their kindest regards.
No sooner were they on their way, than Nig slyly crept round to Aunt Abby's room, and tip-toeing and twisting herself into all shapes, she exclaimed,--
"She's gone, Aunt Abby, she's gone, fairly gone;" and jumped up and down, till Aunt Abby feared she would attract the notice of her mistress by such demonstrations.
"Well, she's gone, gone, Aunt Abby. I hope she'll never come back again."
"No! no! Frado, that's wrong! you would be wishing her dead; that won't do."
"Well, I'll bet she'll never come back again; somehow, I feel as though she wouldn't."
"She is James's sister," remonstrated Aunt Abby.
"So is our cross sheep just as much, that I ducked in the river; I'd like to try my hand at curing HER too."
"But you forget what our good minister told us last week, about doing good to those that hate us."
"Didn't I do good, Aunt Abby, when I washed and ironed and packed her old duds to get rid of her, and helped her pack her trunks, and run here and there for her?"
"Well, well, Frado; you must go finish your work, or your mistress will be after you, and remind you severely of Miss Mary, and some others beside."
Nig went as she was told, and her clear voice was heard as she went, singing in joyous notes the relief she felt at the removal of one of her tormentors.
Day by day the quiet of the sick man's room was increased. He was helpless and nervous; and often wished change of position, thereby hoping to gain momentary relief. The calls upon Frado were consequently more frequent, her nights less tranquil. Her health was im-paired by lifting the sick man, and by drudgery in the kitchen. Her ill health she endeavored to conceal from James, fearing he might have less repose if there should be a change of at-tendants; and Mrs. Bellmont, she well knew, would have no sympathy for her. She was at last so much reduced as to be unable to stand erect for any great length of time. She would SIT at the table to wash her dishes; if she heard the well-known step of her mistress, she would rise till she returned to her room, and then sink down for further rest. Of course she was longer than usual in completing the services assigned her. This was a subject of complaint to Mrs.
Bellmont; and Frado endeavored to throw off all appearance of sickness in her presence.
But it was increasing upon her, and she could no longer hide her indisposition. Her mistress entered one day, and finding her seated, com-manded her to go to work. "I am sick," replied Frado, rising and walking slowly to her unfin-ished task, "and cannot stand long, I feel so bad."
Angry that she should venture a reply to her command, she suddenly inflicted a blow which lay the tottering girl prostrate on the floor. Ex-cited by so much indulgence of a dangerous pas-sion, she seemed left to unrestrained malice; and snatching a towel, stuffed the mouth of the suf-ferer, and beat her cruelly.
Frado hoped she would end her misery by whipping her to death. She bore it with the hope of a martyr, that her misery would soon close. Though her mouth was muffled, and the sounds much stifled, there was a sensible com-motion, which James' quick ear detected.
"Call Frado to come here," he said faintly, "I have not seen her to-day."
Susan retired with the request to the kitchen, where it was evident some brutal scene had just been enacted.
Mrs. Bellmont replied that she had "some work to do just now; when that was done, she might come."
Susan's appearance confirmed her husband's fears, and he requested his father, who sat by the bedside, to go for her. This was a messen-ger, as James well knew, who could not be de-nied; and the girl entered the room, sobbing and faint with anguish.
